


Sunday with the Petrellis

by karrenia_rune



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Heroes community: Heroes X-Mas Fic Exchange, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every family has their own traditions during the holidays and the Petrelli family is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday with the Petrellis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strifechaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifechaos/gifts).



Disclaimer: Heroes is the creation of Tim Kring and belong to NBC Television; as do the characters of Nathan and Peter Petrelli; they are not mine. Written for strifechaos' request in the 2007 Heroes XMAS Fic Exchange. Set during the opening episode of the series. The requester asked for Nathan/Peter slash, this is kinda pre-slash, so I hope it serves)

"Sunday with the Petrellis" by Karen

'Every family has their traditions, some more so than others' Nathan thought as he straightened his tie judging the fall of the fabric and cut based on his reflection in the mirror.

He knew that it is important that he make a favorable impression this afternoon, not so much to avoid the acid but well-meaning commentary he would bear at his mother's close inspection but also because several members of the press would be in attendance at the brunch eon, and the reports they would bring back with them might make or break his bid for political office.

 

Sometimes Nathan wondered why it should matter to him that much what other people thought of him. After all so much of politics these days seemed to be all about appearance, more form than substance., forgot about the issues or the very real people that they were elected to represent.

He finished getting his tie on straight and then Nathan dropped his hands to his sides and turned around made his way to the door of the bedroom when a sudden thought struck him.

"Great, just great, now I am beginning to sound like my brother, Peter. I just hope that little stunt he pulled earlier won't be repeated.' Believing he could fly, I mean, really&gt; What kind of brain fever did the kid pick up anyway?" Nathan shoved the thought aside when another one struck him. " I need you Peter, maybe more than you'll ever know, or I'll ever bring myself to admit. Okay, you happy now?" 'Huh?" he grunted aloud.

In the back of his mind Nathan suddenly realized that was a rather uncharitable thought to be having about his only brother. Over the years Peter was the dreamer, the seeker, and he had had to give the younger Petrelli son credit.

For all of his other faults, Peter had one thing that Nathan often felt lacking in himself; Peter had the courage of his convictions.

 

As Nathan stepped out of the master bedroom and into the hallway to the breakfast room he almost collided with the object of his thoughts, Peter had come dashing into the house, late as usual, her shoulder-length hair tousled by the wind and his haste to arrive in time for the luncheon. Nathan spread his arms out parallel and brought Peter's headfirst slide to a momentary halt.

What did you say," Peter asked curiously, brought out of his self-imposed funk by the puzzled look on his older brother's face.

Peter looked up and after a moment's hesitation smiled. "Don't worry, I'll try to not mess things up."

"Pete, I'm not good at these things," Nathan returned the tremulous smile. "But I'm sorry I said that. I wasn't thinking straight."

Peter broke away from his brother's grasp and stepped around him taking a few steps in the direction of the breakfast room. "You, not thinking straight, that'll be the day. Look, it's over, don't sweat it."

"What gave you the crazy idea that you could fly?" Nathan demanded wondering why he was angry, when he should probably more concerned that Peter had just about attempted to kill himself by jumping off that tenement rooftop. The flying thing was not important it the fact the maybe Nathan couldn't bear the thought of losing his baby brother.

"You're gonna harp on me for that?" Peter whispered back. "Look, drop it, okay?"

"Not okay." Nathan stated in that very familiar tone of voice that when they were growing up meant to Peter that demanded a response and would not take no for an answer.

In the back of his mind Peter wondered if that worked well when Nathan was working cases in court, and if it got him anywhere now that Nathan was running for a seat in Congress.

After a moment of consideration Peter thought, "Oh, what the hell does it matter anyway. I think I can fly, my brother thinks I'm going crazy. One of us might be right, we can't both right? Can we?' Then shoved the contradictory and confused thoughts to a back corner of his mind.

Peter pivoted on his heel and leveled a steady deep brown gaze at his older brother.

"I wasn't thinking straight, is that good enough for you?"

"Fair enough. You got me with my own standard evasive answer." Nathan sighed and before he could think better of the instinctive action or even the possible repercussions of his actions he lunged forward and grasping Peter around his shoulders, pressed his lips against his brother's mouth, and kissed him.

Not the chaste kiss on the cheek, but a full on against the soft and very surprised mouth. For a moment Peter made as if to pull away, and they stood locked together like that for a long few minutes, before both realized that they were being summoned into the luncheon.

Nathan had the grace to blush and drop eye contact with Peter, making a pretense of straightening the hem of his suit jacket while Peter fumbled with his hair, reaching up a suddenly shaky hand to brush back the deep brown locks that had fallen down over his eyes.

When they reached the open door of the breakfast room Nathan turned his head, one hand on the doorknob, turning to look back at his younger brother. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Peter whispered back. "So, am I."

"It's not your fault," Nathan replied. "I love you, man."

"I know. I just need to be reminded of that every now and again." Peter said.

"Don't argue with me about this. It is my fault." Nathan said taking his hand off the doorknob as he stepped inside the room and towards his seat at the table with Peter following along in his wake.

"Are you two going to stand out there bickering all afternoon," Mrs. Angela Petrelli asked from her seat at the head of the long breakfast table with the remainder of their family, the two reporters seated beside of Nathan's sons, Simon and Monty looking up curiously.

"Am I missing something?" their mother asked.

"Nothing that we can't take care of later, Ma," Nathan replied.

"Good, now let's go down to business," she said and began chatting up the reporters with all the aplomb that of a born socialite. Nathan sighed and began getting into the spirit of things adopting what Peter referred to as his 'politician's guise.'

And the back of his mind Nathan suddenly realized that was one of the reasons that he loved his brother, that sharp dry wit and innocent charm.

Today was just another Sunday afternoon truncheon with the Petrellis, and as much as he knew that it necessary to go through the motions and gauge the mood of the political playing field.

Nathan suddenly wanted very much to brush away all of them and spend the remainder of the afternoon with his brother.

It had been Gods knew how long since it had been just the two of them, just hanging out; maybe they should go to a Mets game or something, Damn it, I really am no good at this. Peter, bro, just know that I love you and whatever happens that will never change. I love you."

Damn it. how many times have I said that out loud to anyone." Get a grip, Nathan,' he mentally chided himself and brought his attention back to matters at hand when he got a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of his mother's icy disapproval of his momentary inattention. "Okay, later," he promised himself.


End file.
